


The Arc of Conflict, Edda 17: The Cult of Mercy

by bzarcher, solarbird



Series: Of Gods and Monsters [104]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Conditioning, Consequences, Cults, Dubious Ethics, Evidence, Evolution, F/F, Having Faith, Idols, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Character of Color, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oasis (Overwatch), Other, Philosophy, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Post-Talon, Religion, Religious Cults, Science Experiments, Side Effects, Talon Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Talon Fareeha "Pharah" Amari, Talon Lena "Tracer" Oxton, The Lie Becomes The Truth, Time Travel, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22537858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bzarcher/pseuds/bzarcher, https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarbird/pseuds/solarbird
Summary: Katya Volskaya's government in Russia has destroyed the omnium Koschei, and held their own against the Gods of Oasis. With no point to additional fighting, the overt war has paused. But covertly, the conflict carries on. The gods, after all, still have a plan, and will do what is needed - one way, or another.Angela -Mercy- has discovered she has worshippers, a small cult, like Hana's D.votees. Unlike Hana, she finds this rather delightful.Moira, on the other hand, does not.Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Conflictis a continuance ofThe Arc of Ascension,The Arc of Creation, andThe Armourer and the Living Weapon. To follow the story as it appears,please subscribe to the series.
Relationships: Fareeha "Pharah" Amari & Moira O'Deorain, Fareeha "Pharah" Amari/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler, Moira O'Deorain & Lena "Tracer" Oxton, Moira O'Deorain/Angela "Mercy" Ziegler
Series: Of Gods and Monsters [104]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024
Comments: 37
Kudos: 40





	The Arc of Conflict, Edda 17: The Cult of Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> This would not be the best place to come in to this story. I mean, it'd be a hell of a first wave of culture shock, and that's kind of fun, but... it's not the best place to start reading this story. Just sayin'. ^_^
> 
> dirtyclaws has launched [a public fan-run _Of Gods and Monsters_ discord server](https://discord.gg/pDZMpVT) and invites everyone to come join it. ^_^

Angela had taken her discovery of a small group within the Ziegler Institute worshipping ‘The Goddess Mercy’ in stride.

She’d walked the line between woman and idol for years in her Valkyrie suit, careful to separate the doctor from the hardware, to know where Mercy stopped and Angela began.

But now, truly, was there a difference?

So she let them call her a goddess. She quietly accepted their prayers for aid, for healing, for protection.

What surprised her was the reaction when she shared the news with her wives.

\-----

“You _can’t_ let them do that,” Moira said with a shake of her head. “Angela, no. You should dismiss anyone involved in this... cult... immediately.”

"What? Why?" Angela shook her head, no. “That would be awfully drastic - as well as a violation of religious freedom laws. I won't do it."

"It's not a _religion_ ," Moira insisted. "It's... delusion."

"Please, Moira. They're hardly delusional. In fact, several of them are quite irreplaceable! And it would be a very poor way to reward their faith.”

Moira looked over to Fareeha - disturbingly undisturbed by the news - for help. _She's always been highly practical, maybe she can help me talk some sense into Angela._ "Fareeha, can you... help me get through here?"

Fareeha considered the situation, for a moment. “Are they interrupting work when they go to worship you? Impacting anyone else in the office?”

“No, of course not,” Angela said, with a firm shake of her head. “I wouldn’t have even known about it if one of them hadn’t left me an ‘offering.’"

"An... _offering_ ," Moira managed, as Fareeha suppressed a giggle, hiding her smile with her hand.

"It was just a kanafah, dear. And some coffee. I wouldn't've even known that's what it was, if someone hadn't let it slip. But it's the thought that counts, don't you agree?" She finished her current cup with a satisfied sigh, and set the mug aside. "From what I’ve learned, they generally meet before or after their shifts - and it's all on their own time. I haven't pried.”

“That’s…” Moira frowned. “That’s... I suppose that's... _something..._ but it's still utterly bizarre and should not be tolerated, much less encouraged.”

“I'm not encouraging it. But it is _my_ institute,” Angela reminded her firmly. " _My_ research foundation."

“It's superstitious nonsense. At best. No, it's worse than that, it really is. And...” Moira trailed off, her expression confused, doubtful.

“They’re _my_ employees,” Angela pronounced. “And, apparently, _my_ worshippers. So long as they continue to handle themselves appropriately, then, if it makes them happy, I see no reason to stop it.”

"But..."

" _No._ "

The discussion was quite firmly closed, but a new conversation did not start up to replace it, and the three women ate in an increasingly uncomfortable silence. 

Finally, after she’d finished her meal, Moira stood and put a hand on Fareeha’s shoulder. “Thank you for dinner. It was delightful.”

“Of course,” she said, reaching up, and putting her hand on Moira's, briefly.

“I need to check on something downstairs in the lab,” Moira explained as she stood, and moved away, putting her dishes into the sink. “I’ll be back... later.” 

Angela frowned, worried, unsure what she’d done to push Moira away, wanting to stop her, to talk, to _fix_ it, but before she could speak, Fareeha was taking her hand, keeping her in her seat with a silent squeeze. 

“Don’t stay up until three in the morning again,” the Huntress cautioned the geneticist.

Moira nodded to both of them, uncertainty in her eyes as she left the apartment. 

“Why did you stop me? Why are you just letting her _go_ like that?” 

Fareeha’s hand cupped her wife's cheek, soothing and warm. “She wasn't ready for this, habibti. Let her think it through - it's not talk she needs, it's thoughts. She needs... time.”

The goddess of life closed her eyes, and nuzzled into her Falcon’s touch. “You’re right, of course. I’m sorry, Fareeha. It's so common, now - I had no idea it would upset her so much.”

“It will be fine,” Fareeha assured her as she gently led her back towards their bedroom. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

\-----

_It was supposed to be... something different,_ Moira thought as she sat in her darkened lab. _An... in-joke. Tongue in cheek, perhaps. Wasn’t it? Except for Hana, of course. But she's always been a celebrity, and that's been useful, since Russia. But she's not **really** a goddess. Not **really**..._

She made herself think on the newer D.va shrines, again. How formal they'd started to become, how elaborate, since she'd started addressing her... cultists... directly.

_How... how did we get here?_

Cults. Devotees. _Worshippers._ Was that the world they had wanted to create?

She’d sunk deeper into her doubts as she tried to think about what they - what _she_ \- had done, and didn’t notice the door sliding open.

“Oh, _mum_ …” Lena said, having put her phone away and dismissed Fareeha's text before teleporting over to the Ministry. She wrapped her arms around her mother, and after a moment, Moira returned her daughter’s embrace. 

“Havin’ a bad night?”

Moira didn’t bother to hide behind sarcasm. Not here, not with her. “Angela and I had... a disagreement.”

“Ahh." She and Angela had talked a bit, after she'd heard about a little shrine set up to her, and to Winston, in London. "Finally told you about people prayin’ to her, and all that?”

"You knew?"

"Yeh. it's not the first time, y'know. She's not alone. Hana, Michael..."

"Oh gods," Moira said, before she could stop herself. "Michael too?"

"Yeh. They're what got Ange's going, really. S'far as I can tell. I'm not sure he knows about it, though. His, they're... very quiet about it. That seems to be important to them."

"How have I missed all this?"

"I've got a bit of one too, y'know. Pilots an' such, mostly." She grinned, despite herself. "They're always so happy t'see me. As long as we're on the same side. It's kinda fun, really..."

“No! It's not f..." Moira interrupted her daughter, then herself, as she realised what Lena had been saying. "You, too?"

Lena looked a little embarrassed. "Yeaaaaaaaah..."

Moira put a hand on her brow, and shook her head. "Why would they do that?! They can't literally think we're actual gods, the idea is nonsense. It's a _joke._ It has to be." She shook out her hands, dropping them to her desk. "It’s... it’s _not right._ ”

"Maybe? But it's happenin'. Hana says trying to make it stop just makes it worse, so... I'm just kinda... keepin' an eye on 'em, makin' sure it doesn't get too out of hand, yeh? But otherwise..."

"Madness," Moira insisted.

Lena’s gaze became thoughtful, and she scratched the back of her head. “Are they hurtin’ anything, though?”

"Yes! Rational thought!"

The goddess of time giggled. "Any _one_ , then."

"Themselves. Their own sense of dignity."

Lena chose not to argue the point. "Other than that. Are they hurtin' anyone _else?_ "

“No,” Moira admitted slowly. “Well... spreading nonsense like this is never good. But in the conventional sense, no. Not as far as I know.”

“Have you asked _why?_ ” Lena wondered. “You always used to tell me we _have_ to ask _why,_ before we can make any judgements.”

Moira blinked. _That’s... yes, that’s true._ She shook her head, “No, I haven’t. I suppose I didn't think it mattered - it's so..." she waved her hands around, as if looking for a word, "...nonsensical, on its face, I didn't even consider reasons." A snort. "That makes me a rather poor scientist, today.”

Lena hugged her again. “We _both_ know that’s not true. Now - wait right here!” 

There was a flash, and slight breeze as the empty space her daughter had occupied was filled with air, and Moira was alone again in the lab for perhaps two minutes before Lena had returned, a padd in her hand.

“Right, so, I popped back to their meeting earlier tonight, and asked a few of 'em what they're thinking, why they're doin' what they do. How 'bout you listen to a few of these?” Lena set the padd down, and Moira sat up, trying to keep an open mind as Lena hit play on the first audio file.

"She brought my son back to life," a voice said, full of quiet awe. "He'd been crushed in the wreckage. His legs were piles of blood and flesh, his torso was, oh god, it was flattened under a slab and, there was _nothing_ to be done, and I prayed - not to her, but to anyone, and _she_ came, and then he was _alive_ , as though nothing had ever happened... it was... a revelation to me. My son was _alive_ again, and I'd never seen anyone, or anything, so beautiful."

Moira looked down at the padd. “I think... I remember that. The tanker explosion, off the coast of Iceland. She went with the response teams we sent, offering assistance.”

"Yep," Lena said, hitting the next recording.

Another voice. "As soon as she walked in, patients started improving. She didn't even have to look at them. We'd been scrambling just to get people stabilised, after the explosion, and she flies in - literally _flies in_ \- with her team, and before anyone can even react... just her _being in the room_ , patient conditions started to improve. Burns started to heal themselves. I've seen biotic fields at work, but this... this was _impossible_. And yet, it happened. I was there. I saw it."

Moira considered. "The... the earthquake in Vancouver?"

“Saved a lot of lives,” Lena agreed. “A bunch of few people decided to resettle here, afterwards. That's how she got here, I think.” Lena closed the window, then opened the next file.

“I’ve seen so many patients come into the clinic who would _never_ have survived anywhere else, and thanks to Her, each and every one left healthy and happy. Miracles! Maybe miracles of science, but miracles all the same - because of Her, and because of Her work!”

Moira nodded to herself. It was true that Angela’s work was revolutionary. Even when she’d still worked in Overwatch, she’d had a reputation for saving those who were almost beyond hope, and that reputation had only spread when she’d traveled the world, aiding those in need.

Miraculous… yes, perhaps that was a fair description. But not if taken too literally.

A fourth voice - one Moira recognized. One of the technicians who worked directly under Angela, frequently handling tests and samples for her. 

“I don't think she's supernatural - at least, I'm pretty sure I don't, even if occasionally I have to wonder. But since the day I got here, I have felt better than I _ever have before_ in my _entire life_. It's not euphoria, it's just... I just feel so much _better_ , day in and day out. And being around Her just... helps. Somehow." A snort, on the recording. "Besides, doesn't it make sense that - in our era - the gods would be gods of science?”

Moira snorted. _No,_ she thought. _It doesn't. But I'll admit it's better than the alternatives._ She mused, and chewed on the idea, and chewed upon it some more.

_And perhaps... in a way... if it's just **hero** worship, if it's... **gratitude** , oddly expressed, and as long as they aren't taking it **too** far... perhaps it does contain, at least, a little bit of reason, in amongst the nonsensical expression of it._

Lena watched her mother think, knowing how her mind worked, letting it grind relentlessly through every thought it had. Eventually, she squeezed her mum's hand, a touch of reassurance. “Does that help? Knowing how they see her? Knowing why?”

"Being grateful is one thing. That, of course I understand. But making the leap from that to this... is still... close to madness."

"It's not just that, y'know."

"Isn't it?"

"No. They're..."

Lena bit her lip, thinking about how to put it, as Moira watched her daughter's eyes, comforted by her presence.

"They're kind of in love with her, really."

" _Oh._ " Moira whispered.

"I know you can understand _that._ "

"Yes," she nodded. "Very well."

Lena made sure the clear spot on her desk was big enough for sitting, and she hopped up on top, and leaned forward, touching her forehead to her mother's.

"Religion's got t'have some kind of role, dunnit, mum? It's everywhere, so it's got to do something. That's the kind of thing you've always said."

“Yes,” Moira said softly. "To be so... universal, it must. I thought it would fade, with the removal of so much fear. But..."

"Ange's followers aren't afraid of her, mum. If they were, I don't think they'd be doin' this."

"It's... our fault?"

"Na, not like that! I just mean - they're in love. Isn't that worth something?"

Moira closed her eyes.

 _There is so much compassion in you, my daughter,_ she thought. _How... could that happen, after all I did?_

She shook her head, slowly. She could see it, now, almost. Not quite. But almost. “It's still... foolishness, at best. Hero worship taken too far." She opened her eyes, looking at her daughter. "And I fear it will become worse than that. But..."

She managed a hint of a smile for her child.

"Perhaps, a little... that does help.”

"Sleep on it, maybe? That always sort things out."

"Yes," she said, standing, and giving Lena a hug. "Perhaps I should."

\-----

Moira slid the door to her apartment open, walking in, as quietly as she could, which was fairly well quiet, and was surprised to see Fareeha, awake, on the couch, smiling up at her as she walked in.

"I..." she said, not sure what to say. "You're still awake. Is..."

"Don't worry. She's fine - just asleep. Are you feeling a little better?" her wife's wife asked.

"Yes, I... I think so. A little. Is she... are _you..._ all right? I didn't think you'd..."

"It's fine. Really."

"Did you send Lena?"

Fareeha smiled.

"I thought so. Thank you."

Moira sat down, next to the Huntress, next to her wife's wife, who she found so warm, and so comforting, and leaned against her strong shoulder.

"So," she asked after a moment, "what do you think of all this?"

"I'm married to a goddess, what do you think?"

Even Moira couldn't not laugh a little at that.

"Seriously. Please."

"I..."

Fareeha leaned her head back against the top of the couch, thinking it over, running the fingers of one hand through Moira's hair.

"I didn't just grow up with my mother's beliefs. You know that."

"Mmmm, that's nice. Um. Yes. I do."

"I'm part of my father's people, too, even if my mother raised me. And they... _we..._ have a more... pluralistic view of spirits and supernatural powers and gods. Particularly the ones who never converted to Christianity. So did my mother's people, long enough ago."

"Of course. As did my own."

"But in my father's case, it's a _living_ tradition. 'We're still here,' he likes to say, and he's right."

Moira looked upwards without moving her head, trying to judge Fareeha's expression. "Are you saying that they..."

"Oh, they'd _never_ , I promise you. The Christians are very Christian and won't touch it. And as for my father's faction... " She snorted. "They've had more than enough of settler gods of _any_ kind. Trust me on that."

"Good!" _At least someone has some sense around here_ , part of her thought.

"But for me, while it's still not the same - it's not really entirely _different,_ either." Fareeha sighed, thinking back. "I'd like to talk about it with my mother. She wouldn't like it any more than you do."

Moira felt troubled by the comparison, mixed with sadness at the memory of their last meeting. "But we aren't gods. It's not _real_."

"Isn't it? After all, we actually exist."

"No! It's..." She stopped, lifting her head up a little, caught in Fareeha's simple statement of fact.

" _We_ exist," Fareeha repeated, running with the thought, letting her hand fall from Moira's head. "We're incredibly powerful. We're functionally immortal. We are reshaping the world, for the better. Creating... a new world. A better one."

Moira nodded, once, slowly.

"Isn't that what gods do?"

Moira stared down at the floor, and then at the table on the floor, not wanting to think about how all of those pieces added up quite sensibly, even as the conclusion became - remained - determinedly irrational.

"It's still... nonsensical. Overall. Even if it... even if... even if all the pieces each make a kind of sense, on their own."

"Any good plan is more than the sum of its steps."

Moira nodded. "This must fulfill some unmet psychological need. I told Lena, earlier, I thought religion would start to fade, not... _shift_ like this, but..." She blinked, looking up. "A first step, along that path?"

She sat up straight, pulling herself up off Fareeha's shoulder, and turned to her wife's wife, seeing her quizzical expression. "An _intermediate_ step, perhaps," she started to explain. "A step away from fear-driven worship of myth, to... well, I'd rather it wasn't us, or any real people, but at least, as you say, we exist."

"You have that glint in your eye." Fareeha raised an eyebrow. "You think you're onto something."

"I may be," Moira agreed, nodding. "It's still not rational but... perhaps it's a step towards rationality." She nodded, churning through the possibilities. "It's not enough my field. I will have to talk to someone in human psychology. Dr. Hariri, perhaps? Or Dr. Konyegwachie. She's very good. We should study this. It would be fascinating to..." She trailed off as she picked up her phone, and started to scroll through contacts.

 _Ah,_ Fareeha thought, _that's better._ Then she smiled, and put her hand over the phone's screen. "That all sounds like a very good idea. But not tonight."

"What? Why..." Moira looked up again, and groaned a bit at the time displayed on the clock above the stove. "Aheh. Yes. Thank you, dear. You're absolutely correct - not tonight."

\-----

Despite their best efforts not to disturb Angela, she stirred, her wings fluttering against the mountain of pillows she had been resting on, bronze eyes shining in the darkness. “...Moira?" She looked to the other side of the bed. "Fareeha?”

"We talked," Fareeha said. "I think she's feeling a bit better."

“I am,” the geneticist murmured, “and I’m sorry.” 

Fareeha settled onto her side of the bed, curling up against her wife. Moira kissed the angel's cheek before settling into a similarly comfortable position against her other side. “I still think it's not a good development. But I need to understand it, and that will require research, which will take time. I shouldn’t have told you to stop them, or to fire them - it wasn't my place.”

Angela reached over, gently stroking Moira's cheek, and the Irish woman closed her eyes and sighed into the touch, relief spreading through her. “I was worried too,” the angel admitted softly. “I hate it when we fight, even a little. But Ree said it would be best to give you time.”

"Mmm hmm," Fareeha mumbled, already headed towards sleep.

“I’m sorry I worried you, but... yes,” Moira agreed as she kissed Angela’s palm. “I think it was.”

\-----

They did not call themselves Gods.

Not at first, anyway. Not _seriously._ It was a joke, amongst friends.

But in hindsight, it wasn’t surprising that Angela was the first to really accept that title - and the outright worship that came with it - from outside, from the men and women she had saved, descending in a blaze of golden wings and terrible light. 

She’d walked the line between woman and idol for years in her Valkyrie suit, careful to separate the doctor from the hardware, to know where _Mercy_ stopped and _Angela_ began. 

But now, with it all part of her, all truly part of her _being_ \- was there really any difference? 

So she let them call her a goddess. She accepted their prayers for aid, for healing, for protection, and she answered them.

They would remake the world. They would make it better. 

Really, it wasn’t so different at all.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the thirty-third instalment of _Of Gods and Monsters: The Arc of Conflict_. To follow the story, [subscribe to the series via this link](https://archiveofourown.org/series/972024), rather than to the individual works.


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